


Chasing Echoes: The Choice

by Valkrez



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkrez/pseuds/Valkrez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serana doesn't want to enter the Soul Cairn alone, but is she really willing to share her burden with the Dragonborn?</p><p>A single scene within the Laboratory beneath Volkihar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Echoes: The Choice

The chamber of the Volkihar ruins in which they stood was in many ways like Serana herself: old beyond reason, stained by death, and harboring something precious. It was difficult for her to imagine her mother in this crypt, despite the fact that the vestiges of Valerica still lined the mold-covered walls and sagging desks. This laboratory was a place of horror, but her mother had been so much more than a dealer in death. She was a poet, a musician, and a lover of all things beautiful. The proof had been in the courtyard garden, some ten flights above where they stood now. Centuries ago the courtyard had glimmered with luminescent petals under the twin-moonlight, inviting a passerby with waves of perfume and mysterious evening buzzing. In that garden Serana would oft stroll and muse and remember what it was like to live and wither much as her mother’s flowers… but now the carefully tended beds were like her and like this ruin. Dead, and forgotten. 

The fact that nothing of her former existence had stayed the same brought a bitter taste to Serana’s mouth and for a moment her watchful gaze fell, despondent, to the silver chalice which was the centerpiece of the balcony she stood upon. 

“Hey then,” a warm voice broke past her reverie, resonant and firm like its owner. “You all right?”

Serana’s glowing eyes glanced up at the Nord woman on the stairs, regaliant in worn steel plate. The warrior’s gold mane hung in wild curls and half-frenzied braids, flecked with muck and blood and sweat from their long climb downwards into the bowels of Volkihar. Grime smeared her cheek, covering a white scar which dipped from below her ear, and marred the dull sheen of her gear. Aerin was oblivious to her filth, however, and in that moment her ice-blue eyes were stuck entirely on Serana as the vampress hung, unsure, beside the chalice. 

“Yes,” she shook her head and cleared her throat, wanting to focus on the task at hand. “Just… nostalgia.” She gave her companion a wan smile but Aerin frowned. 

“Nostalgia? This place is a pit and you’re feeling sentimental?” Her mouth cut into a grim smirk as she rose the stairs to join her, carrying a basket between her hands filled with a tattered journal, a bowl of void salts, bone meal, and shattered soul gems. She placed the basket on a ledge behind Serana and turned to her. “This is all your mother’s journal speaks of, though I’ve half these things back at my cottage. If this is what it takes to walk to the Soul Cairn I don’t see why we needed to come so far out of way.” Aerin’s tone was dry and sarcastic, something which Serena had quickly become used to since meeting the Nord two fortnights ago in the caverns of Dimhollow. Meeting was a kind word, considering that the vampress had all but fallen out of her casket and into Aerin’s arms, barely conscious and enervated from a millennium-long slumber. 

“I think that your cottage is missing a couple of things,” she answered and pointed over the ledge of the balcony to the chamber center, where a mysterious set of concentric circles were carved into the stone floor, riddled with runes of Oblivion. Serana spoke some of the dremoric alphabet but the complexity on the floor was beyond her knowledge, and she arched a black brow at the Nord for her stubborn derision. 

Aerin glanced from the dial back to her and shrugged, armor creaking. “Technicality,” she assured, not impressed, and nodded to the chalice. “So, what’s next here, Spider?”

Serana’s eyes narrowed momentarily at the epithet, something which Aerin had started calling her in reference to a tendency which the vampress had for ‘scaring the horseshit off her boots’ when she moved too silently for the warrior to notice. 

“Well,” she started, reaching for her mother’s abandoned journal in the basket. “We add the ingredients to the chalice, and then I think I make an offering.”

Aerin scowled slightly. “An offering? You didn't tell me to bring a sacrifice.” 

Serana threw her a glower over the top of the journal as she flicked through the pages. “I meant, a blood offering. Mine, in particular.” 

The Nord heaved a sigh deep enough to jostle her breastplate. “Aye, you vampires and your blood sacrifices…”

“There’s power in blood, Aerin. Otherwise it wouldn't keep my kind alive as it does,” she answered, almost academically. She knew that the warrior was only playing at being dense, out of some defense mechanism against possible threats, but Serana still felt the need to correct her just in case there was real confusion behind her doltish mask. The weight of being Dragonborn wore heavily on Aerin’s shoulders and she took to shielding her worth behind various games as a way to hide from pieces of the world. Serana knew this even better than Aerin herself did, but she did not like to point it out too starkly. If the Dovahkin wanted to keep those around her at arm’s length then that was her right, but Serana did hope that she’d learn to relax with her in time. She enjoyed the moments when Aerin’s strict guard began to fall and she was given a glimpse of the clever spirit within.

Realizing that she was musing now, she looked up and saw that Aerin was watching her, and not happily. The vampress closed the book suddenly and reached for the bowl of void salts. “Let’s just get this over with,” she decided.

The salts shimmered as they fell in a funnel into the bowl, making a high, musical sound. The bone dust was much heavier and when she arranged the broken gems she noted a slight charge developing in the chalice. Aerin stood nearby, one hand on the hilt of her short-blade out of habit as she frowned at the magic taking place. Next, Serana drew a dagger from her belt and made a slice along her palm. 

“Mother, please let this work,” she murmured. They had come so far to this point, and now this was their last foreseeable chance. If the spell proved false, she had no idea how they would defeat her father and the prophecy. 

Her dark blood stained the concoction, creating violet sparks and she realized in a flurry of creaking, groaning ether that her fear was foundless. Aerin whipped around to gaze out at the stone dial, which shifted under the force of such ancient and dark magic. Oblivion appeared then, in a sphere above the runes, gleaming in blue and white and tongues of black daedric flame. The glow of the portal cast the entire chamber in sheer blue and for a moment all the vampire and warrior could do was to stand side-by-side in silent awe. 

“...That’s it,” Aerin muttered after a time. “That’s the Soul Cairn.” 

“That’s the way into the Soul Cairn,” Serana corrected quietly and then reached for her mother’s journal. “I wonder if she left any sort of direction on how to-” she stopped, finding something odd as she flipped through pages. One page in particular seemed thicker than the rest, and she realized on a closer inspection that it was in fact two pages sealed together, either by time or intent. Cautiously, she pried the pages apart to find more of her mother’s handwriting, but the words scribbled there were not guidelines for finding Valerica’s sanctuary within the cairn. They were in fact something which filled the vampress with sudden, coiling dread. 

“What’s wrong?” Aerin demanded crossly, easily reading Serana’s open features. She closed the book again, softer, and returned it to the basket before meeting Aerin’s eyes. 

“Aerin,” she said carefully, wanting to keep the Nord calm. “This is where we part ways.”

Her golden brow came into a sharp line. “What?”

“You can’t go into the Soul Cairn,” she explained in that same level tone. Inwardly she was already trembling at the thought of having to make the journey into the Ideal Master’s realm on her own. “Because you’re mortal.”

Aerin scoffed and glanced away, and Serana could notice her obvious misgiving. When she turned back to Serana, her lips were tight with a sullen anger. “Now you tell me? After all of this?” She waved at the doorway opposite the balcony, the same they had traveled through a half hour before. Behind that door was a labyrinth of passages, filled now with the defeated dead and beyond that was the Sea of Ghosts and all of Skyrim, which they had traversed together almost twice. The warrior took a step towards her, jabbing a finger at Serana’s chest. “You need my help, you can't go in there alone, Serana.” 

She shook her head. “I’ll manage. I’m stronger than you give me credit for. How many times have I saved your skin by now?”

The Nord grunted, no more appeased. “As many as I’ve saved yours,” her scowl lightened slightly. “There’s got to be a way. I won’t just abandon you to this.” 

The woman’s declaration, filled with so much angst and honest care, was enough to squeeze Serana’s chest. How was it possible that a woman, a mortal at that, whom she’d known only a month could have such loyalty for her compared to her own father, who’d all but disowned her. Her thralls, her fledglings, her friends, nothing was left of the people whom Serana had once relied on but here was this stupid, brazen, stubborn Nord insisting that she be allowed to follow her into Oblivion and beyond and for what? For a prophecy? Glory? Or something else altogether?

Serana shook her head. “Only a vampire lord can enter. Unless…” she trailed as an idea occurred to her, something so distant that she was surprised to have thought of it at all. 

“Unless?” Aerin tilted her chin. 

“Unless you sever your soul,” Serana finished slowly, looking at her. 

“...My soul?” The Nord repeated, appearing aghast. 

“Yes. Theoretically, I think that I could sever your soul into a soul gem, and then you’d be just immortal enough to enter the Soul Cairn safely.”

Aerin scoffed and turned away from her, gripping the balcony ledge. The light of the portal framed her armored physique and wild hair in perfect blue and, surprised by the strange beauty of the figure, Serena held her breath as she watched her and her silent conflict. Finally Aerin turned back to her, shaking her head. 

“I can’t do that. What if it goes wrong and I lose the Dovah?” Her features were strained, almost wounded, but she shook her head. “You’ll have to change me.” 

Serana took a step back. “What? Aerin, no-”

“Yes,” she insisted, almost barking the order. “I can take it.”

“I’d rather put your soul in a gem than turn you, Aerin,” she shot back, vehement. “You don’t want this curse. I know that you don’t.” She knew it better than most. A story had been given to her, haltingly at first, of a brother turned against his will and sent madly through the countryside. To stop his bloodlust, the village had been forced to hunt and burn him alive with Aerin left to helplessly watch. The event was what had inspired the Dragonborn’s allegiance with the Dawnguard and in a way it had led the both of them here to this precise moment. How could she put the woman through all of that once again? After everything they’d done and seen and experienced together?

The warrior shook her head and moved closer, edging Serana back against the stone pillar behind her. “I don’t want it, but I’d rather that than give up on this now. This mission means something, Spider. And…” her voice grew quiet as she struggled for what she wanted to say. Only inches from her, Serana could smell the leather of Aerin’s gear and the sea-wind still fused into her hair. She could hear the Nord’s frightened breaths and her rapid, confused heartbeats and she wanted very much to hear them closer; louder. “And it won’t be so horrible, if it’s you.” 

Her ice eyes glanced up to catch Serana’s, and for a moment she thought that the woman would say something more. There seemed to be so much left to be revealed in that sparkling gaze. Instead, Aerin swallowed, and then Serana’s hands lifted and cupped around her cheeks. She didn't want to leave Aerin behind any more than the warrior wanted to let her go ahead without her, and she knew that stance and glare. Aerin’s mind was made, and the Dragonborn’s stubborn will was her legacy. 

Deftly, the vampress’s hand fell into Aerin’s tangled mess of hair to push some back over her shoulder and bare a sliver of muscled flesh above the nape of her armor. She could almost see the vein there, pulsing, driving Aerin’s lifeblood through her powerful form and despite her deep set worry over bringing her friend into her fold, Serana also desperately wanted to know Aerin’s blood for herself. She was loath to admit, even privately, that she’d fantasized of such a moment.

As she leaned closer she could hear the woman’s sharp intake of breath, and then her fangs pierced the firm flesh. Warmth filled Serana’s mouth and then her limbs and the deepest reaches of her brain as she swallowed Aerin so intimately. The Nord gasped, and her arms wrapped about Serana’s shoulders for support as her legs gave way beneath her. The vampress caught her easily, empowered by the fresh blood she drank and her own preternatural gifts. She eased them both to the stone floor and felt Aerin settle heavily, gasping for air. It had seemed as if she’d suckled at the other for hours but in fact only a few moments passed before she jerked herself away, cheeks flushed and fangs stained darkly as she gulped for clarity. Her senses were alive and burning full of the warrior’s taste and scent and fettered heartbeats, disorienting her higher judgement. She was drunk with Aerin’s rich, Dragonborn blood pulsing through her, but her friend’s twisted features brought her quickly back down from her high.

“Serana,” she croaked, fingers linking weakly into the vampress’ ebon hair and Serana leaned forward to cradle the Nord to her chest. She knew that her curse was passing into the other’s body now, and that it would be no easy thing. 

“It’ll be all right,” she promised, petting through Aerin’s hair as she held her tightly. She could feel Aerin’s convulsions begin and she shut her eyes, not wanting to have to witness what the process would do to the Dragonborn’s body. “When my father took us to Molag Bal’s shrine that night, we had to prostrate ourselves before the prince,” she murmured, needing something to distract them both. “I was naked, and scared, and over and over I had to touch my head to the flagstones and beg aloud for his favor to ‘come unto me’. When the clock struck midnight, he finally did. He laughed while my back tore open from his lashes. I wanted to scream and run, but my father had told me already that I had to ask for more, our Prince would kill me for being weak. So I did. I begged him to touch me again and again. I could feel each slash deeper in my flesh. I could feel them in my heart and my stomach and my very soul, but I kept screaming for more. I don’t think I even knew what I was saying anymore, I was just moving my mouth and waiting to die…” her voice halted, weak and coarse. She’d never re-lived that night with anyone before, not in the millennium since she had been born anew as a creature of undeath. Even after all this time, it was no easier to recall, but she still felt somehow glad she had spoken of it. Someone in the world needed to know what it was to deal with Molag Bal, and perhaps if the story were spread then it could be a warning to those who would otherwise try and meddle with Princes far greater than mortal minds. 

Her fingers continued to stroke Aerin’s cheeks as the warrior’s spasming worsened and then started to slow. “It was humiliating, and painful, and I’d never do that to someone else.” She leaned slightly away as Aerin began to calm and when the warrior looked shakily up at her, the blue of her eyes was gone. Hearth-red orbs stared back up at Serana, lost and afraid. “I’d never do something so awful to you, Aerin,” she promised and bent to push her mouth to the other woman’s forehead. “My curse is just a kiss.”

She felt Aerin relax and sigh, and the fingers around her back gripped her corset with sudden, renewed strength. She paused to look down at the woman again, but this time she saw not an anxious welp but the firm, stoic warrior she’d grown so fond of. Abruptly then, Aerin surged upward and her new-found strength surprised Serana as it crashed against her, lips melding in an unexpected passion. Aerin was fervent, her lips burning as they moved against Serana’s and pried her mouth open to dart her tongue inside past blood-stained fangs. Her hands moved to encircle her waist and before the vampress could think to brace herself she was pushed back onto the floor while the warrior clamored smoothly on top of her. 

Serana’s mind was a chaotic flurry as she tried to comprehend what was happening past her sudden, driving need. She gripped her fingers into Aerin’s hair, pulling her tightly to her while her hips moved upwards against that unforgiving steel with long-forgotten need. How long since she had enjoyed a lover? A kiss? A caress? How many nights had she watched Aerin sleeping on her side and wondered what it would be like to curl beside her and glance fingertips down the shadow of her cleavage and curve of her hips? She’d repressed this desire since the day she’d woken in Aerin’s arms but here was the warrior, riding onto her as if she’d take her right upon the dusty dungeon floor of her father’s castle. It was unexpected, and impassioned, and not like Aerin at all. 

With effort, Serana pushed back at Aerin’s cheeks to part them. “Stop,” she panted. Both of their mouths were blushed red and damp with their frenzied kissing, and Aerin’s eyes shone bright with lust. Serana took another deep breath to calm herself and her voice. “You… you feel drawn to me, because I turned you. It will pass.”

“No,” Aerin swore and gripped her all the harder. “I’ve wanted you, all this time. I was just unsure if I could. I was afraid you only wanted to turn me.”

She arched a brow at her, vaguely pained to know the truth of Aerin’s distance from her but also glad for her honesty. “And now that I've turned you?”

“I’ve nothing to be afraid of,” she finished and began to lean down for another kiss but Serana turned away. 

“No, Aerin. You didn’t trust my intentions, but now you need to ask if you trust yours.” Carefully, she looked back at her and saw Aerin’s features pull tightly into consternation as she considered what was said. Still taking deep breaths, they lay together for a few moments more before the Dragonborn pushed herself back upright to her knees. Red-faced and pouting furiously, she stared down at her hands while Serena carefully sat up as well, dusting off her skirts some. 

“Aerin,” she beckoned after a few silent moments but the warrior did not look up at her. All of this time they had privately wanted to be closer, and now they were bonded by blood and unable to even meet each other's eye. “We should go,” she suggested, somber. 

Aerin nodded and wiped at her nose, and then stood to tower above her. She offered down a hand, which Serana gracefully accepted, and pulled her to her feet. 

“Let’s get to it,” she ordered gruffly and adjusted her weapons around her, and then started in a heavy gait down the stairs towards the portal. Serana pressed her lips as she watched her lead ahead, and took a moment to wipe her mouth and settle her drumming heartbeat as well. There was so much left for them to do, but for the first time since this quest had begun for them, the vampress was beginning to wonder what would happen once the day was finished.


End file.
